


a step further

by sableflynn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Choking, F/M, Gunplay, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Kneeling, Non-Consensual Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sableflynn/pseuds/sableflynn
Summary: Alternate version of chapter 3 of BFATF, where Savio takes the gun-in-mouth metaphor and makes it more literal.
Kudos: 15





	a step further

**Author's Note:**

> Just an attempt at whipping up some smut for my friend's birthday :o) happy birthday justplainwhump!! 
> 
> This is an alternative ending to chapter 3 of my story By Flash and Fire Thunder. I kept in a few paragraphs from that chapter as lead-up to provide a bit more context (so those are just the same as the other story), but if you want more I guess just read the first few chapters of that story. Basically this lady's kidnapped by some mean men who want to ransom her to her husband (who may have a few secrets of his own). The actual story has a more optimistic ending!

Katia knelt on the floor, Peters’s strong arms holding her down. Savio loomed over her, and she renewed her struggles, twisting away from the strong hands holding her down. “Let go of me, you piece of shit—”  
  
A metallic _click_ , and Katia’s eyes slowly traveled up to the gun in Savio’s hand, and she went still.  
  
“That’s more like it,” Savio murmured, pressing the sleek barrel of the gun to her forehead. Every inch of her skin was hypersensitive, and the gun felt like a shard of ice against her skull.   
  
_He’s going to kill me._ He couldn’t, that wasn’t how it was supposed to go, he’d told Nic _twelve hours._ But none of that mattered when she could feel the cold metal against her skin.  
  
“Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”  
  
Peering up at Savio from where she knelt, she saw his lips quirk up in a slight smile. “Say that again,” he breathed, trailing the gun lightly down one cheek.  
  
She swallowed. _Pride means nothing right now._ “Please,” she said again, “don’t.” 

Savio shifted the gun until the tip of the barrel just barely rested against her lips. “Open up,” he said.  
  
She didn’t dare disobey.  
  
He forced the gun in her mouth and her teeth scraped the metal as she instinctively tried to close her jaw, to back away, but there was nowhere to go. Her senses were overcome with the sharp tang of gunpowder and steel, the handcuffs digging into her wrists, the press of the unyielding ground against her knees.   
  
“Is this how your husband sees you?” Savio asked, almost conversational. He thrust the gun deeper into her mouth, and she gagged. “I think I’m starting to see the appeal.” She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, couldn’t stand to see whatever enjoyment he was getting out of her choked gagging and the tears running down her cheeks.  
  
With his free hand, Savio pulled out a phone and passed it over to Peters. The other man crouched next to her, and she heard the faint shutter sound of the phone camera. She made a muffled sound of protest and tried to jerk away from the camera, but Savio held her still with a hand on her head.  
  
“Make sure you get nice and close,” he said, and Peters obliged. “That fear is _beautiful_.” Katia squeezed her eyes shut, sending another stream of tears down her cheeks. The shutter sounded again. Her jaw ached.

Then the gun was pulled from her mouth. She didn’t find it any easier to breathe, not with the tip of it still so close to her face and Savio’s other hand settling on her hair. She forced herself to look up at him, and the look in his eyes sent a chill through her. It was more than playful sadism; it was dark, and hungry.

“Peters,” Savio said, and his voice was low and dangerous. “You’re free to go. I’ll let you know when I need you again.” He didn’t take his eyes off Katia as he spoke. The hand on her hair gripped tighter. 

Peters left the room, and Katia’s eyes followed him with a sort of desperation. Why? It wasn’t like he had done anything to help her, and yet everything about Savio’s tone and stance and cold desire left her desperate for someone, anyone to be there so she wouldn’t be alone in the room with him.

As the door closed behind Peters, Savio looked down on her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. The tip of the gun nuzzled almost gently into the curve of her neck, leaving a trace of saliva where he dragged it along her flushed skin.

“Aren’t you just pathetic,” he murmured, his voice husky. She squeezed her eyes shut and a few traitorous tears leaked out and trailed down her cheeks. “Sobbing and choking and begging. So _sweet,_ ” and the hand in her hair directed her head forward until she was pressed against the front of his pants, and she could no longer deny or ignore the bulge that was forming there.

“Please, dont,” she gasped out, hating herself, knowing she was giving him exactly what he wanted, but unable to stop. The metal of the gun was cold against her skin. “He’ll give you the money, he’ll do whatever you want, just don’t—not this.”

“No?” His hand shifted out of her hair and moved to undo his belt. The metallic sound echoed in the room. “How are you going to stop me?”

She was hyper-aware of the barrel of the gun, now tracing a delicate line up her neck to press against the bruises forming on her cheek. “Just—just hurt me instead,” she begged, ignoring the dread that roiled her stomach at the thought. “Do whatever you were going to do before, hit me or—or cut me,” she sobbed on the last words, her mind blank with fear, but driven by the need to get the gun away from her face and stop him from doing—what he was about to do.

He laughed at that, a low, dark chuckle deep in his throat. “Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll still do all those things.” His free hand unfastened the button of his slacks, undid the zipper. The gun pressed harder into her cheek. “But first I want to see just what you do with that mouth that made _Domenic Sterling_ , of all people, settle down and marry.” 

He reached into the front of his slacks, and she couldn’t help it—she turned her head away as much as she could, refused to look, because she knew it would kill her to see how aroused he was by her pain and fear and helplessness. He pressed one hand against her cheek and gently guided her head back to face him, shifting himself until the tip of his cock rested at her lips, an echo of the gun barrel that had rested there moments before.

He didn’t have to tell her what to do, this time. He twitched the gun still pressed against her bruises, the metallic clink of it oddly loud so close to her ear, and she opened her mouth. He began to guide himself in.

He had barely passed her lips before she jerked back, momentary panic overcoming her fear of the gun pressed against her head. He pulled back, his body looming over hers. Then he snarled a hand in her hair and she had a bare second to blink before he whipped the gun across her face. Her world exploded in pain, and she was only held up by Savio’s hand in her hair. 

“You aren’t just going to _take_ this,” he growled. “You’re going to _participate_.” Straightening her out back to kneeling, he forced his cock again into her gasping mouth. “ _Suck_.” 

She tried to shake her head, but he was already in her mouth, hot and salty and overwhelming. He thrust a little deeper, and she gagged, tears leaking from her eyes. Desperate, she gazed up at him beneath her tear-soak lashes and weakly began to suck, and he groaned.

“Go on,” he breathed, continuing his shallow thrusts. “Shut your eyes and pretend I’m your husband, if it helps.” 

_Not Nic._ She couldn’t think of him now, not when this monster was forcing himself down her throat and she was choking and the gun was still pressed against her head and she really thought she might die—but then his face appeared in her mind anyway. His warm smile, his strong hands, the way he would love every inch of her with a desire bordering on reverence, a world away from Savio fucking her face and chasing nothing but his own pleasure. She wouldn’t allow Nic to exist in the same space in her mind as Savio, and this moment, and this cruel basement.

She fixed her gaze on a distant point on the wall across from her and let herself wander.

The cement against her knees was hard and cold. The cuffs binding her wrists were tight, her skin already chafed raw from pulling and straining. Her arms were wrenched behind her back. Her face—no, she couldn’t think about her face right now, she couldn’t think about what was happening there. She drew her awareness back to her knees, pressed against the unyielding floor. They were probably bruising from how long she’d been kneeling. She’d bruised her knees once, ice skating with Ni—with someone. She’d slipped and landed right on her knees on the cold ice. Her thick tights had softened the blow a bit. The jogging pants she wore now were the thinnest barrier between her knees and the ground. 

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Savio growled, and his voice brought her slamming back into reality. She gagged, suddenly choking as he forced himself down her throat, and he gripped her hair tighter until she couldn’t move. 

Forcing his cock deep into her throat, he pressed the gun hard into her cheekbone, and she cried out at the sudden jolt of pain in her bruised face. The sound vibrated in her throat, and Savio’s thrusts became more erratic and desperate. “Do that again,” he groaned, pressing harsh fingers into her bruises again and again until she was sobbing. 

_This has to be over soon,_ she told herself. She could tell he was close, or maybe it was wishful thinking, but he was lost in his own pleasure and this just _couldn’t_ go on forever. Then he buried himself deep in her throat and she couldn’t breathe, she was gagging and swallowing reflexively but he held her tight and came with a harsh exhale. He stayed down her throat through the throes of his orgasm and she tried to breathe but he was suffocating her, it was too much. Then he finally withdrew, slowly dragging himself out, and she immediately doubled over and coughed. 

“I think I see why Sterling keeps you around now,” Savio murmured, patting her cheek with one hand while she heaved. He tucked himself back into his pants, taking a step back to watch her with bright eyes. 

As the gun was taken away from her head and the immediate threat removed, something in her _burned_. The fear and despair of moments before evaporated, replaced with a cold, hard loathing. Pulling herself up as straight as she could despite her shuddering, shaking breathing, she glared up at Savio.

He laughed. “We’re going to have a _lot_ of fun together.” Her hatred burned brighter, and she knew, she _knew,_ that somehow she was going to make him _suffer_ for this. She held onto that hatred, the only thing keeping her from succumbing to despair, even as he circled slowly around her like a hawk circling its prey. 

“Now then,” he said, and a harsh hand gripped her hair and wrenched her head back from behind. “I believe you were begging me to _hurt_ you…”


End file.
